Hiding From Truth(being edited)

Chapter 1

The beam is just wide enough to grip my toes around. The floor has the springs to send me flipping into a double full. The vault table sends me flying. The bars bend ever so slightly as I swing on them. It's the most satisfying thing; going through the whole flipping motion of the uneven bars.

And I love it.

"Dude you've zoned out of math eight times. What's up, Elise?" Isabel asks, attempting to "break my legs". I jump out of the way lightening fast and go to break hers and do it successfully. Her knees buckle out from under her as she struggles to regain her balance.

          "Dunno. I guess I was just bored of hearing Mrs. Ann talk," I shrug.

          "Oh, I get that," Margret says from behind us. In all honesty, I was daydreaming of gymnastics. I was  imagining my bars routine.

          Kip, cast, handstand, free hip. Toe-hecht, kip, cast handstand, giant, giant...

          "You're blanking on us again, Elise," Isabel flicks my ear before walking to her locker. I sigh.

          "You sure you're good?" Margret asks.        

          "Never better," I insist.

          "Okay. We have Spanish now, right?" She asks, putting her math stuff in her locker.

          "Yeah," I nod.

          "Cool beans."

          Spanish class sucks. The teacher doesn't know Spanish. She thinks she does. She definitely doesn't.

          "I think if Mrs. Carson chanted random words no one cares about one more time, my mind would blow," Sara groans.

          "I care," Julie raises her eyebrows expectantly.

          "That's because she's a no one," Isabel whispers quietly in my ear.

          "Bell!" I hiss, even though I'm fighting the grin off my face.

          "Oh, but you know it's true," She says. I shake my head, but my smile breaks through my lips. 

When the last class of the day comes, gym, I'm itching to leave and go practice my sport. I leave fifteen minutes early everyday to get to practice on time. The elite levels give you no life. My coaches wanted me to home school, but I wanted actual school. You know, have a life.

          At school, no one knows who I really am. At school I am Elise Pace(or El for short). My full name is Carmen Elise Pace and I only go by my middle name because my first name is weird, apparently(I actually love my first name). I don't let anyone know my real name. At school, I did gymnastics when I was really young, but quit. At school, I have glasses.

          In the gymnastics world, I'm Carmen Pace. Two-time National gold winner and World Champion. I've been all over the globe. France, Germany, Canada, Switzerland. My favorite was Germany. I've been in magazines and had articles written about me and I'm only sixteen.

          Again, no one from school knows I'm a gymnast. The only people who know who I really am is the principal, a desk lady, Mrs. Holsoun, a few other school workers, and my life long best friend Jolene. She doesn't go to my school. She goes to the public school a town over.

          I miss half of the first period every day for early morning workouts. Everyone thinks that's because I'm in an advanced writing class at a local college. It works out well because writing is my best subject in my sophomore year of high school.

          "Alright, I want everyone to split into two groups. Figure it out amongst yourselves. You have three minutes, go," My gym teacher, Mrs. A, blows her whistle and it's a bustle of activity. Isabel, me, and another guy in my class, Carter, are our grades fastest and strongest kids. People usually choose us for their teams, even though as far as anyone knows, I don't put my athletic stature to use. If only they knew.

          "Isabel," I say at the same time she says, "El." We smile and she grabs my wrist.

          "We're a package," Isabel announces.

          "Fine with me," A boy Mikey shrugs and decides we're now on his team.

          "Good job," Mrs. A applauds as everyone goes to their side, "That was a lot easier than the middle schoolers." We all mumble in agreement. The seventh and eighth grade is connected to the high school. Those kids are incredibly annoying, and they are a bunch of kiss ups to athletic kids. Isabel and Carter know that firsthand because of track and soccer.

          "We're playing dodge ball," Mrs. A gestures to the foam balls in the middle of the court.

Soon it's fifteen minutes before final bell, and I have to go. My end of the day excuse is that both of my parents work, so they have to pick me up at 2:15, not 2:30. It's not 100% and lie. They both have jobs. My mom is a teacher for children with disabilities, and she goes to her job in the afternoon usually. My dad does work full time so he definitely can't pick me up.

          "Bye!" I wave and run to my mom's car.

          "How was school?" Mom asks.

          "Meh," I shrug, "Mrs. Carson was especially boring today."

          "Was she?"

          "Oh yeah," I nod enthusiastically.

We reach the gym around 3:00 and I run to the locker room and pull my favorite purple leo on.  It has little rhinestones dotting the shoulders and a part on the chest that flourishes downward to my rib cage with silver fabric.

          "Hey, Carmen," My gymnastics best friend, Jordyn waves. Her strawberry hair is pulled in a crazy curly knot of a ponytail. She's stretching on the floor where I join her.

          "What was school like?" She asks. Jordyn is home schooled so she can focus completely on training, but she always wants to know about actual school. She is also a year older than me.

          "Terrifically boring," I say.

          "Is anyone starting to figure out who you are?" She asks. Jordyn knows how I keep it a secret who I really am. I'm scared people will start treating me differently and try to be my friend for the popularity.

          "No. No one I really talk to is in the loop with gymnastics."

          "I honestly want to see your friends faces when they learn who you are," She giggles.

          "Hopefully, they won't have to know unless I make the Olympics," I say, "And by then I will have shipped out to the training facility."

          "True."

          "Okay, girls," Coach Megan says, coming up to us, "Carmen, you start on beam, Jordyn on floor. Coach Dave will work with you, Jordyn." We nod and I go over to the beam with Coach Megan.

          "Warm up and then we'll run routines," My coach nods for me to mount. I do and begin simple back and forth tricks to get my "beam feet" back on.

Beam isn't my best, but I like it. Bars isn't my best, but I love it. I'm good at floor, but it isn't my favorite. And Vault is my best, but I definitely don't like it. It's a mixed combo of my apparatuses.

          I run my routine once, then Coach Megan has me work hard on my most difficult combo. Back handspring, back handspring, layout full. I tend to wobble on it a lot. With Olympic Trials in a month, the coaches were pinpointing every tiny mistake.

          I make it to floor next and nail all my passes. Bars works well enough and I crush the vault table.

          "Bye," I wave to my coaches and walk to where my mom's car is parked. I flop in, exhausted as she pulls out.